


Suits & Scars

by st_mick



Series: (Mis)Understandings [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Enjoy it while it lasts..., Episode: Big Finish Audio Drama 2.5: Broken, Ianto's suits, Jack & Ianto - Freeform, M/M, Scars, Sorry (totally not sorry) for that..., Strange customs of visiting aliens, Surprisingly compassionate Owen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 10:58:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto has propositioned Jack, but will he lose his nerve when he realizes he'll have to let Jack see him, without the suit?





	Suits & Scars

_“…you wear a suit and think I don’t know why?  You don’t need a suit to make coffee!” **[1]**_

***

By the end of the conversation, Ianto had propositioned Jack.  Had kissed him, even.  It was messy and nervous and just a bit desperate.  And he hoped to hell that he wouldn’t be judged on that performance, alone. 

Because Ianto had it on excellent authority that he was a _very_ good kisser.

And now they were in his flat.  Jack had taken him up on his offer, almost as though he were calling a bluff.  Ianto had poured each of them a whisky, and they were standing in his kitchen, eyeing one another as though they were about to come to blows.

He almost giggled at that turn of phrase, given the circumstances.

Perhaps he was a bit hysterical.  Must be nerves.  He swallowed the whisky and put down his glass.  Hell, he wasn’t even certain this would work.  Well, things were working again, but only sporadically.  He hoped tonight wouldn’t end in more humiliation than normal.

Jack appeared to be waiting for Ianto to make the first move.  Or perhaps to back down.  Ianto sighed.  “I have made such a mess of so many things,” he said, wondering if this was truly the right time for such a confession.

“We all do, Ianto,” Jack replied gently.  “It’s called being human.”

Ianto flinched, remembering Yvonne Hartman, for a moment.  Then something from their earlier conversation came back to Ianto, and he chuckled.

“What?” Jack asked.

“I don’t need a suit to make coffee,” he murmured.  “I wonder, Jack.  Why do _you_ think I wear a suit to work?”

Jack grinned.  “Because you know you look damned good in it.  It makes you blend in and stand out, all at once.  And maybe you want to be taken seriously, because you’re still so young.”

Ianto looked Jack right in the eye.  “I wear a suit, and now I _know_ you don’t know why.”  He shook his head.  He had taken his jacket off when they had entered the apartment.  Now he slowly took off his tie.

Jack frowned.  “Why, then?”

Ianto took off his cufflinks and placed them on the counter next to his discarded tie.  Then he began unbuttoning his shirt.  “You think it’s vanity.  Or because you said you liked the suit, that night we caught Myfanwy.”  He untucked the shirt and shrugged out of it, casting it aside and standing before Jack.

He was in his vest, now.  And it was a good-quality vest, not a thin one, so you had to really be looking for them, to see.  But the sleeves only came three-quarters of the way down to his elbows, so the scars on his upper arms could be seen, along with those on his forearms.  Also in full view was the scar on his neck, just above his collarbone (just below the collar of a dress shirt, only visible if he unbuttoned more than the top button).

Jack’s eyes stared, not missing a single detail.  The scars were trying to tell a story, but he couldn’t put it together, as yet.  He sensed that Ianto was waiting for some sort of observation from him, before taking off the vest.  Realization struck like a summer lightning bolt.

“Your suit is your armor.  It protects you from people’s curiosity.  It keeps people from getting too close, from seeing too much.”  And the way Ianto wore that suit, Jack suddenly realized that this was a tactic the younger man had been using far longer than since moving back to Cardiff.

Ianto’s expression was still unreadable, but inclined his head, slightly.  Jack sensed he was nervous.  But then he seemed to steel himself, and after another moment’s hesitation, he took off the vest. 

To his credit, Jack’s expression did not alter.  His eyes roved over Ianto’s ruined skin, showing only compassion and regret.  Perhaps a bit of heat, as well.  After all, Ianto was very well put together, despite his scars. 

He vaguely wondered why Owen had not mentioned them, but then he remembered that the doctor had mentioned some scarring, some burns that were still healing, back when Ianto had first been hired.  But Ianto had seemed unimpaired, so Jack had assumed the injuries must have been too minor to be of any concern.

Once again, he was horrified by his own negligence.

Ianto’s torso was covered in scars that could only have been from second degree burns.  It hadn’t been much more than half a year, so the barely-healed scars were still bright pink against the snowy background of his unscathed skin.  His forearms and upper arms, as well as his abdomen, and then along his right pectoral muscle.  There was another just above his right collarbone.  There was also a scar on his left shoulder that looked suspiciously like a…

Jack’s thoughts were cut off when Ianto began to speak.  “There was a fire in the conversion room where I found Lisa.  I dragged her from the room, but…  Metal tends to conduct heat.  Once in the hallway I was able to douse her with a fire extinguisher.  That cooled the metal enough that I was able to get her out, but the damage had already been done.  Some of the fibers from my clothes had fused to my skin.”

Ianto spoke these words in a soft voice, his eyes towards the floor.  He knew Jack had hired him because of his looks.  Now Jack could see that the suit and the looks were pretty much synonymous.  Ianto saw himself as a tolerable face with a ruined body.  He was waiting for Jack to leave, which is why he started in surprise when Jack touched him.  He had not even heard him approach.

Gentle hands caressed his skin, and he gasped.

“Ianto?” Jack paused.

“It’s just,” Ianto closed his eyes.  It was almost too much.  “No one has touched me like this since…” he trailed off, then turned pained eyes to Jack, who continued to touch him.

Jack stroked Ianto’s arms, where he had hooked under Lisa’s shoulders to drag her from the conversion room.  His belly, where her shoulders had pressed against him.  His chest, where her head had rested.  His neck, where the top of the unit encasing her head had touched.  His shoulder…

“Ianto?” Jack prompted softly, his fingers lingering on the scar in question.

Ianto closed his eyes, willing himself recount the memory without being dragged off by it.  “It said I was incompatible,” he whispered.  “It meant to delete me.”

Jack’s eyes grew wide.  That explained the vague shape of a handprint.  But no one survived deletion by a Cyberman.  Well, no one but Jack, who shuddered at the memory of the thing that used to be Lisa attempting to delete him.  “How did you survive?” he asked, mystified.

“I think it had been damaged by a Dalek,” Ianto replied.  “So I guess it wasn’t the maximum jolt.  It must have thought it had done the job, though, because when I came to, it had moved on.”

“So you dragged Lisa from the building after being electrocuted and burned.  Then you got her to safety and managed to sneak back into the building for equipment for her.”

“I raided the infirmary, first,” Ianto said absently.  “The only reason I was functional enough to help her was because of the two cases of burn treatment – for me – and the many cases of pain medications – for both of us, at first – that I was able to smuggle out, before UNIT and you lot came in.”

“Ianto,” Jack was at a loss for words, so he just folded the younger man into his arms and held him, for a moment.  Ianto melted into his embrace, and Jack noticed another set of scars on his back.  These were far too many and ropy and pale and quite old.  He cleared his throat.  “And your back?”

Ianto tensed in Jack’s arms.  “ _Not_ from Canary Wharf,” he answered simply before relaxing into Jack’s body, once more, making it clear that he had no intention of discussing the matter any further.

Jack made a mental note to circle back to _that_ , at a later date.  And to speak with Owen about all of this.  He was honestly shocked that Owen hadn’t demanded some sort of treatment for Ianto, after seeing the extent of Ianto’s physical injuries.

Jack loosened his grip on Ianto, who stepped back a slight bit.  He looked closely at Ianto before running his hands over the scars, once more.  He knew that in all likelihood, the healed tissue would be less sensitive to sensation, but he wanted Ianto to know that he was not affected or put off by them.

As he touched Ianto, he began speaking in a conversational tone.  “You know, people usually divide themselves into two camps, with respect to scars.  They either find them off-putting, or incredibly sexy.”  He leaned in to Ianto and whispered in his ear, “I fall firmly into the latter camp.”

He then nipped the ear, feeling Ianto give a shudder.  “You are an incredibly sexy man, Ianto Jones, in or out of that suit.”

Ianto pulled back and stared at him for a moment, seeming to be at a loss as to how he should reply to that statement.

But Jack did not wait for a reply.  He was too curious.  That kiss in the SUV…  It had been hurried and sloppy and unexpected and yet still quite nice, but he had a feeling that Ianto could do much, much better, if he felt more comfortable in his surroundings.

Jack leaned in slowly, allowing his desire to show.  Then he waited for Ianto to close the distance, still wanting to leave it up to the younger man, whether anything would happen, this evening.  But gods and goddesses, how he hoped Ianto would not lose his nerve.

Ianto knew they had reached the point of no return.  He was pleasantly surprised that Jack had not yet balked at the scars.  Jack seemed strangely compassionate, even.  Ianto tried to find any remaining resentment, but instead only found the heady attraction that he had fought from the very beginning.

He slowly leaned in, closing the distance between them, ghosting his lips across Jack’s before pressing in more firmly.  He opened his mouth slightly, and Jack responded in kind, and they shared a slow, sensual kiss for some moments before Ianto deepened the kiss and began to explore Jack’s mouth with his tongue. 

Jack was allowing Ianto to lead the kiss, completely enraptured by everything that it seemed to encompass.  So much feeling, so much passion, and yet so much… tenderness.  He began to see Ianto’s guilt and inability to forgive himself in a new light.  He began to realize just how much it had hurt Ianto, to betray Jack and the team.

Jack almost broke the kiss at that insight, but then Ianto slowly slid his tongue along the length of Jack’s, and any remaining restraint was lost.

The two spent the night thoroughly exploring one another, and Jack was surprised and delighted by Ianto’s enthusiasm and responsiveness.  By morning, both men realized that the promise of just one night was fundamentally flawed. 

***

Not long after the affair began, Jack was presented with a valid opportunity for broaching the subject of Ianto’s scars with Owen.  The team had been in the field, and everyone except Jack had been slimed by the approximate equivalent of alien snot. 

Well, that was what Jack had told them, anyway.  He figured their reaction would be even more horrified, had he informed them that it was actually alien ejaculate.  The creature in question had been _very_ excited to go home, and its parting gift was considered something of a benediction, in its own culture.

So it happened that, as Owen, Gwen and Ianto showered (Toshiko was well pleased to have been coordinating them from the Hub, that day), Jack was the one collecting their clothing for disposal.  Jack made sure to go to Ianto’s stall first, catching the man stripped down to his pants and slowly peeling them from his body.  He let out a low whistle.

“That’s harassment, Sir,” came the cheeky reply as the boxer briefs flew towards Jack’s face.

Jack chuckled as he caught them, tossing them into the bag before proceeding to bagging up Ianto’s suit and the others’ clothing, then circling back to distribute clothing from everyone’s lockers.

Later, once ensuring that Ianto was ensconced in the archives and Gwen and Tosh had gone to pick up their lunch, Jack confronted Owen.  “Owen.”

“Jack?”  Owen looked up, unused to hearing that particular tone from Jack.

“I collected clothes from everyone, in the showers.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“I saw Ianto.”

Owen stilled.  He blew out a breath.  “I did tell you.”

“You told me about burns that were healing.  You didn’t tell me…”

Owen sighed.  He knew the boss was… partial to Ianto.  Actually, he was a bit shocked that this was the first Jack knew about Ianto’s scars.  He felt grudgingly appreciative that Jack hadn’t been screwing around with the kid, at least before now.

“Wasn’t your business, Jack.”

“Except it was, Owen.  What if we’d gotten him help, back when he first started, here?  Could we have prevented…”

“I tried to refer him to the UNIT shrink, but he refused.  You know the Tea Boy.  He would never have agreed to get his head shrunk, not as long as he had a secret that big to keep under wraps.”

“Should we try now?” Jack asked.

“We can try,” Owen answered.  “Though honestly I don’t think we’d succeed.”  He hesitated.  “But maybe,” he sighed again.  He wasn’t sure the wisdom of this.  “Maybe you could get him to talk.  At least get some of it out of him, so he’s not holding it all in.”  He shook his head.  “I honestly don’t know how he’s held it together, Jack.”

“He’s strong.”

“He’d have to be.”  Owen still had nightmares from their time combing through the wreckage of Torchwood One.  The carnage had been horrific.  He couldn’t imagine being in the thick of it.

Jack hesitated.  “What about his back?”

Owen cursed under his breath.  “Got a real eyeful, did you, Jack?”

“Never thought seeing Ianto without any clothes on would actually hurt,” Jack murmured.

Owen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  After a moment, he cursed again.  “He wouldn’t say anything about them.  But from my rotation at A&E, I can say that those scars are definitely consistent with abuse.”

It was Jack’s turn to swear, which he did colorfully and eloquently, in several languages.  He had suspected, of course.  But that hadn’t prevented him from hoping that he’d got it wrong.

“Not a word, Harkness,” Owen growled.  “Unless he wants to tell you about it, to ask him could set him back.  Like I said, he’s holding it together, but do you really want to take the chance of triggering something that would make it all fall apart?”

“No, I don’t.  Don’t worry.  I’ll see if I can get him to confide in me.  At his own pace,” he added quickly at the sharp look Owen gave him.  “It’s not like I know what I’m doing, but I do know how to not push.”

“Really, now?” Owen quirked an eyebrow again.

Jack smiled.  “Really.”

***

 

[1] From audiobook “Broken”

**Author's Note:**

> (Mis)Understandings timeline:  
> Canary Wharf: 04.11.2006  
> Cyberwoman: 08.10.2006  
> Suicide Attempt: 08.14.2006  
> Return to work: 09.11.2006  
> Faeries: 09.19.2006  
> Countrycide: 10.09.2006  
> Broken: 11.15.2006


End file.
